“This isn’t a game!” he snapped. “If he’s being nice to you, it’s so he can use you against me.”

“Why?” she fired back. “Because I’m only good for guys to use me? That’s working out really great for you, isn’t it, Nick?”

The air in the cab moved, lifting a few strands of her hair. Nick’s hands clutched the steering wheel like he wished it was Tyler’s neck.

“Look,” he said, his voice rough and low like gravel. “Tyler is cruel. Destructive. You know this. He hit you in the face and burned your arm and—”

“He didn’t hit me in the face!”

Nick gave it right back to her. “Then who did, Quinn?”

She locked her eyes on the windshield, suddenly afraid she might cry. Air moved through the cab again, warmer now, a caress along her exposed skin.

It felt ridiculous, but she couldn’t tell him. Like Becca, Nick knew some of what her home life was like, but not enough. They mostly knew what it had been like before: the screaming matches with her mother, the father who seemed to forget he had a family. But since the fire, things had changed. Money was tight, and it was like her parents clung to Jake and his scholarship as if that was the shining star in their lives. Like that put food on the table.

More likely, keeping her mom away from the liquor store would do a lot more for their family than Jake’s stupid scholarship.

Not like Jake was making use of that scholarship, the way he kept frying his brain cells every night.

If Quinn told Nick about how her mother practically drank herself unconscious, or how her brother could barely string a sentence together, but didn’t mind strong-arming her into the wall when he needed twenty bucks, Nick would step in. He’d be the white knight in shining armor. He’d rescue her.

And then he’d kiss her on her forehead and go off with a knight of his own.

“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me,” said Nick, his tone resigned. “I can’t believe you think that asshole could be nice—”

“He was nice,” she said icily. “You know, he still thinks your brother killed his sister. He actually seemed kind of upset about it.”

“Upset. Yeah, okay.” Nick looked disgusted. “Did he tell you about the time he tried to kill Chris? Or the time he and his friends pinned Michael down in a parking lot and took a butane lighter to his face? Or how about the time he cornered me in the gym and—”

Nick broke off, breathing fast.

“And what?” she said.

“You know what? Forget us. Think about Becca. Just ask her what she thinks of Tyler.”